


Call and I'll Answer

by Marveljunkie



Series: Write Me [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hunt, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Sam, Season/Series 04, Slash if you squint, Werewolves, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 07:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10531326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marveljunkie/pseuds/Marveljunkie
Summary: Sam gets hurt on a hunt, and Dean patches him up.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really just wanted some hurt Sam and caring Dean. That is all. Could be wincest, if you want. ;)

"Sam!" 

Its a nasty werewolf hunt. They underestimated the size of the pack and the boys are a little overwhelmed. Instead of just three, there's six. They each have a few they're dealing with.

Luck favored Dean this time and he managed to kill the ones on him. Sam's still struggling though. Apparently most of them thought Sam looked the most delicious.

Dean doesn't blame them, but no way is he gonna let them get a bite. He launches himself at them and tugs one off, taking advantage of it's surprise to get rid of it quickly. 

Sam manages to get another one and together they tackle the last two. Dean breathes out a sigh of relief as the last one goes limp and he can finally get a good look at Sam. Then he sees why Sam was having trouble. He has a dangerous looking wound on his side and had to keep a hand on it during the fight.

"Sam?" Dean hurries to his side, putting a supporting arm around Sam's waist. 

Sam slumps against him gratefully. "Knife." He pants. "One of them had a knife." 

Dean relaxes a little. Good, no danger of having a werewolf Sammy on his hands. "Okay, Sammy. Let's move to the car, kay?" 

Sam grunts softly in pain as they start walking. Dean helps him fold into the back seat. "I'll be right back. Gotta clean up." 

He hurriedly takes care of the scene, making sure it all looks like an accident, a fight gone wrong. He's back to the car in five minutes. Sam has a wadded old shirt pressed to his stomach as he inhales deeply through the pain. 

Dean gets into the driver seat. "Just a bit more, Sammy." Sam manages a tight nod. Dean drives as carefully as possible, careful not to jostle Sam. 

Back at the motel, Dean almost has to carry Sam to the room. His poor brother is barely conscious now that the adrenaline has worn off. He settles Sam gently on the bed and stuffs some pain pills between his lips along with a mouthful of whiskey. Sam swallows, and then Dean sets about taking care of the wound.

He disposes of Sam's shirt and wipes away the excess blood. The wound isn't large but its deep. Definitely stitches needed. He grabs the necessary supplies and settles down next to Sam.

"Okay, Sammy." Dean mutters, more to himself then to Sam. "Brace yourself, this might hurt." He lays a calming hand in the center of Sam's chest and carefully pours the alcohol on. 

Sam gasps and his fists clench as he tenses but he stays still. Dean makes little hushing noises until Sam relaxes, rubbing gentle circles on his sternum. 

"Good, Sam. That was good. Now just a few stitches, little brother, and you'll be good as new." 

Sam reaches for Dean, sluggishly setting a hand on his brothers thigh as Dean begins. It takes ten stitches before Dean can tie off the thread. Somewhere in the middle, Sam went limp. Dean honestly can't blame him. Pain meds or not, getting stitches is not pleasant. 

He puts everything away and then heaves Sam up gently into his arms, carrying him to the other clean bed. Then Dean washes his hands a few times and his face too for a good measure before getting into bed with Sam. He does not feel like sleeping in the bloody mess that is now the other bed. 

He debates silently whether Sam would like to sleep in his jeans or not, and decides he wouldn't. Dean knows he himself hates it. He's in the middle of gingerly pulling Sam's jeans off when Sam opens his eyes, blinking woozily down at him. 

"Hey, Sammy." Dean says quietly. "Figured you wouldn't want to sleep in your jeans. Fucking uncomfortable, isn't it." 

Sam just blinks. Dean tosses the clothes to the side and crawls back into bed, laying his palm on Sam's forehead. "No fever." He answers, seeing the fuzzy question in Sam's eyes. "You're gonna be fine, kiddo." 

Sam hums and licks his lips, reaching sluggishly to tug Dean a little closer. "Dean." 

Dean obliges, scooting into easy reach. "Right here, Sam." He smiles fondly. Secretly, he thinks Sam's adorable high on pain and medicine.

Sam smiles and closes his eyes. "Dean."

**Author's Note:**

> Doing good so far. Even if nobody seems to be reading. I'm having fun anyway.


End file.
